


A Kiss of Peace and Trust

by LadyDeme



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ceremonial Kissing, Fluff, Gay and Feudalism, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oaths & Vows, Post-Canon, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23023333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeme/pseuds/LadyDeme
Summary: It's the day of Dimitri's coronation, and afterwards, his vassals, lords, and knights will offer him their fealty, their loyalty and mutual promises sealed with a ceremonial kiss. Dimitri could give precedence, the honor of their loyalty acknowledged as first and most important, to a noble of high standing. But it's an honor most deserved by Dimitri's most loyal man -- if Dedue is willing to step forth and accept praise and honors.Their kiss is a sign of their mutual trust; it is a symbol of peace; it is a formality.  It can't mean anything more than that, an honor and testament to their bond as lord and vassal. But somewhere in their hearts, it can't help but mean something else, too.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	A Kiss of Peace and Trust

Preparing Dimitri for his coronation would have been easier if Dimitri were truly present. Instead, he drifted, not physically but mentally, across some deep ocean. Putting on his ceremonial armor, impractically laden with ornamentation, took Dedue asking him several times to offer a leg for a greave, lift his arms for a cuirass; mostly, Dimitri stared off into a distance, absorbed in his worries. From time to time, he shook his head and groaned — the sound squeezed Dedue’s heart.

“Your Highness. Your arms,” Dedue commanded, presenting a vambrace. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Dedue; I’m sure I’m being a dreadful nuisance.” In the moment’s focus, he checked to see if the ribbon holding back his hair was secure. As Dedue buckled on bracers, he looked at Dimitri out of the corner of his eye. The unobscured planes of Dimitri’s face caught the light like snow-covered tundra at dawn; Dedue didn’t notice his own smile. “I appreciate the help, but please, don’t hesitate if you need a break. Someone else can help.”

“I won’t yield the task of helping you on this day to anyone.” The hint of pride in his tone faded. “What troubles you?” 

“I’m worried about the order in which I should hear the lords.” The day’s schedule called for the coronation in Fhirdiad’s cathedral; a procession to the castle through streets thronging with people; and last before the celebrations, Dimitri would be offered the fealty of his vassals in the most sacred oath Faerghus had. The vassal would kneel, recite an oath, and offer their outstretched hands for the king; he would take them in his, as he took the people into his hands as their lord, accept their oath, and let them rise into a kiss of peace and trust. 

The kiss had fallen out of favor entirely with Adrestian noblility: it was seen there as licentious, no matter how pure it felt in Faerghus, where even then, it was reserved for special occasions. Luckily, they were merely guests; Dimitri did not want to bind them to anything without first coming to an agreement about the best course for Adrestia after Edelgard’s fall. Which left the lords of the kingdom in good grace and those of Leicester.

“I have no wish to insult anyone, but there’s a great deal of room for offense. My intention was first the alliance lords, as this is their first oath to a King of Faerghus in centuries, and then the kingdom lords, and then my personal knights — but is that right? Would my supporters during all these years feel unappreciated if they were not granted precedence over the alliance?” Dimitri was over-explaining, his words running out without any indication that his mind was with them. 

“Your instinct is fine. Were I judging,” Dedue’s reflection frowned back at him in the curved surface of another piece of armor. “...I would want this honor granted to those who supported you best, to show you value their loyalty.” 

Dimitri stared. This would be his first true act as king: his declaration, a lense that magnified it. He’d been going through the morning in a daze of anxiety, his head buzzing with last night’s headache. His heart was already pounding. Now, faster.

“...Is that all?” Dedue watched Dimitri forget to breathe. He reached for a gauntlet to busy his hands, while Dimitri took time to answer. 

“...I’ve been having nightmares about today. In particular,” Dimitri added, leaving ‘besides the usual ones’ silently understood. “I see my father’s body in the crowd. He gets closer with each glance, until he cries out that I am only a monster and deserter. And then the screaming starts.” One of Dimitri’s hands trembled without his noticing. “The living and the dead alike recognize me for what I am.” 

“You will be fine.” Dedue cradled that hand to linger as he slipped a gauntlet over it. They were alone — a luxury he might not have later, when it’d be risky, no,  _ selfish, _ to speak freely as a friend. “Who you are is more than your sins or your madness. Who you are is someone absolutely worthy of recognition. I hope they do.” 

“You as well, Dedue.” Dimitri’s heart crumpled like a dead leaf in his throat; he couldn’t accept those words, and he was so, so grateful for them. 

“...Thank you, Your Highness.”

“This may be the last time you’ll call me that; I won’t miss it.” Dimitri tried to muster a smile. Dedue sighed fondly.

The last of the armor was on. Dimitri steadied himself, white-knuckled. They put on their most professional faces, and locked, for today, a distance between them. And they went to face the day.

* * *

Dimitri was crowned in solemn ceremony and celebrated in the streets. The cheers rained as he passed; it was crushing. He was the wrong person to stand at the heart of merriment, being thrown faith and flowers. But it was beautiful, too, hearing those cries, the pouring out of joy at the end of a long war and longer chaos. He’d do all he could not to fail any of them.

He stood before the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, too long empty, on a white marble dais polished to reflect every candle. There were crowds of observers in the back, packed so deep he couldn’t see the floor. Before him were supplicants in groups forming a triangle: The kingdom’s nobles to one side (Felix, rolling his eyes, at their head), the alliance’s to the other, and the crown’s knights — and Dedue, his own personal retainer — as the far point between them.

“I will hear those who pledge their loyalty to my throne.” His earlier worries swelled for a moment, so he took a long breath: He could still avoid strife and give the moment to someone people expected and respected. Dedue wouldn’t notice any slight — he might not even accept the praise. But when he found Dedue’s eyes, they softened encouragingly. Dedue was the man who was somehow proud to stand by him. The man that, as long as he was there, Dimitri would neither falter nor fail. 

“Dedue Molinaro.” Dimitri’s voice was gentle and completely unapologetic. His decision wasn’t posed as a challenge to the room of notables, but if anyone doubted, if there were whispers in that room scorning this Duscur commoner, the serene smile of the king proclaimed  _ he _ was not in error; he wouldn’t move.

Dedue froze with the breathless caution of a deer. The gazes pressed him, weighing him and weighing Dimitri for his actions; Dimitri honored this man above lords whose esteem Dimitri  _ needed _ — an ice-cold lump stuck in Dedue’s throat.  _ How soft-hearted.  _ Dedue wasn’t sure he could bring himself to step forward — but he couldn’t retreat. He felt so selfish.

His heart pounded as it hit him that Dimitri had listened to him... and thought this.  _ Impossible. Foolish _ . Compared to men who could move freely in his world, who he could stand beside without delay or regret, who could  _ help _ Dimitri, he had no business being honored. He had failed to find His High— His Majest—  _ Dimitri _ . He had failed to protect him all those years.. He couldn’t possibly deserve it. He couldn’t allow himself to want it. 

But behind Dimitri’s eye was an open sky, without a hint of doubt or regret. His smile, hopeful and unexpectant and unafraid, was really for Dedue: he hadn’t made a mistake. If there were consequences, he welcomed them. That face was so dazzling Dedue might have wept. Dimitri had opened his hands, and in them, he held the kingdom he wished to make for Dedue. With Dedue.

Dedue stepped towards that world, throwing out his fear behind him. He was Dimitri’s first vassal, and he would not yield to anyone. So how could he turn away, when it was no one else’s right? When it was his? He held his head high and walked into the circle of mirrored candle-light. Dimitri’s eyepatch crinkled slightly, pushed by his cheek as his smile grew. His heart sang; there was still so much, but today, at last, Dedue would let him honor him even a fraction of what he deserved. Dedue knelt.

“I swear to the goddess that I will always be faithful to my king, observe my homage to him completely, and never do him harm.” Part of Dedue wanted to throw aside this, too, and say something better, more important, more true: he wasn’t making an oath to the King of Faerghus, or Fodlan, whatever was the name of this new, ruined land — his feelings, even as a vassal, had nothing to do with those. 

“I will be your sword and shield against all foes.” Dimitri had risked his life without even knowing Dedue. Dimitri had given him hope when hope was gone. And Dimitri had told him, in great and small ways, that he must live, no matter how little Dedue thought so. Dedue wanted to repay that, to protect that, to see that granted to as many of his people as Dimitri’s arms could reach. To all. But Dimitri’s smile, and his name, and the awe-inspiring fact that he cherished Dedue — they were Dedue’s treasures.

“I swear, I will always be with you and true to you, for I am  _ your _ man.” There, that was it.

And Dimitri took Dedue’s hands between his own. Dimitri sighed, imperceptible to the watching crowd, at simply how warm Dedue’s hands were, even through gloves — he held the sun.

“I swear to honor your loyalty, to provide my aid and protection unflinchingly to you, Dedue Molinaro, first and most faithful of men.” Dimitri wanted to thank Dedue for giving him a future to hold to. For believing in him, steadying him. Just for being alive. Air knocked from his lungs by that warmth, he pulled Dedue to his feet. He didn’t let go; perhaps he could never have, his heart was pounding so fast.

This was only a formality. Just a formality that Dimitri looked up into Dedue’s eyes, saw the emerald sea, and couldn’t compose a thought. Just a formality that Dedue flushed, beaming with pride when looked down at the face of a beautiful, scarred, wonderfully whole person. It was only a formal sign of their trust and obligation to one another that Dimitri slowly lifted himself off his heels and kissed Dedue in front of hundreds.

Oh. But all the same, as Dimitri’s lips touched Dedue’s, he wondered at how good they felt, how strange and lovely the little rough depression against all that softness, where a scar crossed the corner. The taste made Dimitri remember hunger, remember he had a body to hunger with. Dimitri’s mouth held Dedue as gently as any radiant praise Dimitri had ever given him. Like that, it was impossible for the two of them both not to hold a fantasy they each thought solitary: that in the next moment, Dedue would run his fingers through pure gold, and Dimitri would unclasp Dedue’s hands and instead hold all of him, and those lips — their lips — would part so softly. 

It didn’t happen. It couldn’t. Imposing such a thought was a betrayal of the sacred and innocent trust this moment was born of. But the thought was.

They kissed a moment too long, and an eternity too short; they seperated with a sigh that no one, no one, was meant to hear. 

“I wish to always be so blessed, to have such a wondrous man beside me.” Dimitri quietly dipped just beneath the crowd’s hearing and the surface of some vast sea of feeling; observers saw him only looking up, face red-tinged and smile fond, at a man stunned and shy from those words. A flushed, cautious smile crept across Dedue’s face.

“I will strive to fulfill your desire.” Dedue tentatively freed the words. It was a vow, same as the others — except only theirs. “Because that is... another wish we share.”


End file.
